Hades and Back
by splintered glass
Summary: Jack isn't usually the victim but this time a familiar face becomes his captor and he is dazed and confused...
1. The Lake of Hades

**Spoilers: None, unless you count the flashbacks in, um Fragments? Exit Wounds? Please correct me!  
A/N: Have to update the Spoilers, silly me - of course Small Things (now that the story actually has a plot!)**

**Characters: Jack for now, Ianto for sure later, Torchwood Team, The Card-Reading Girl, some Thugs**

**Owners: BBC, Mr. Davies, everyone except me. I'm just messing around with them. And they are making me very VERY happy.**

**Hades**

Jack felt the sunlight beating down on his face warning him not to open his eyes without protecting them. But when he tried to move, he simply couldn't. He could wriggle his hands but something bound his wrists. His ankles were also bound, and he felt himself rocking side-to-side and bobbing about. This just made no sense, so he carefully squinted his eyes open to get a look around.

Not much help. Most of what he could see was obscured by a glaring sun, but around that was a blue sky streaked with wispy white clouds. He could turn his head but that gave him a close-up look at some kind of wooden structure, probably the side of a boat. He also began to notice his back was in horrible pain as he was draped across some kind of bar. He rocked forward as best he could, which made the boat bob around wildly, so he moved more carefully and eventually came to a sitting position.

Surrounding him was a glass-calm lake, shrouded in what must be morning mist, bordered by trees decked out in glorious reds, golds and greens. The beauty did nothing to lighten his mood or ease his pain. His hands were almost numb, his legs were useless, his back still spasmed horribly, and he could now see it was duct tape binding him. It bound him to a long, very thick chain, which was connected to an anchor - one which looked plenty big enough to secure him to the bottom should he and it fall out of the boat. Oh, and to make things perfectly dreadful, his mouth was taped as well, and as time went on that soon became chapped and soaked in blood with his futile attempts at biting a hole through it so he could call out, or at least breathe better.

So someone had devised a new trap for him, containing him instead of killing him, although a bloodstain on his shirt hinted killing had also been involved. He snorted, frustrated at the slight admiration he felt for his captor, and at their lack of consideration in leaving him covered in his heavy wool coat in this heat. It might have been a cool night (he had no recollection of that), but the day was becoming painfully hot, and he knew his face and hands would be turning red soon, then blistering, if he didn't protect them. So he kept his head down and concentrated on trying to remember - remember anything from the previous night. Who had he been with? How had he gotten here? And while they were at it, what was the motive?

He had hours to consider the situation and was bathed in sweat just to add to the discomfort. His breathing was becoming laboured and he knew sun stroke would soon be a danger. He surprised himself by seriously considering going into the water, anchor and all, and see how many times he would have to drown before reviving enough times to drag himself to shore.

When the mist lifted he had the distinct displeasure of being able to see a short pier a mere 10 or 20 meters away from him. He tried to rock the small boat tin that direction, but it was tethered to the lake bottom by another anchor.

The sun was at its apex and still no one came by to taunt him, feed him, or finish him off. His hands were blistering both from the sun and from trying to work at the unforgiving duct tape - the cuffs of his shirt and coat were soaked in his blood. The splintered wood of a seat in front of him was too soft to cut with, and only served to cause more wounds. He was hot, hungry, bloodied and becoming uncharacteristically desperate. Then he heard footsteps on the pier and turned his head as far as he could (the boat had drifted and his back was to the shore). All he could see was a figure dressed in loose white clothing - couldn't tell if it was male or female.

He didn't have the energy to make futile noises. This person was close enough to see he was in dire straits. They just stood there, seeming to study him. They seemed satisfied and he heard footsteps again as they left. Great. I've been taken by a clever, mute, and slightly sadistic maniac who really doesn't want anything except to disable me…and make me suffer.

And that's when he finally realized what was going on - memories came flooding back of a backroom meeting with the young girl with the cards, and the moment when she grabbed her cards and tore out of there like lightning, her dark eyes showing fear for the first time in the hundreds of years he'd known her. He thought he heard her faintly as she left, "Help us, Jack…" and then something crashed against the back of his neck, beating him to the floor, but not rendering him unconscious. He fought back but was weakened by the first blow. So he got a severe beating and lost anyway, and eventually someone - familiarly dressed in white - came into the dark room, gleaming in contrast to the shadows. The figure raised a shrouded arm and the gunshot went off, killing Jack so they could take him captive at their leisure.

So, now, in the middle of a friggin lake, Jack was losing his temper and patience. He decided on the absolute worst and most painful course of action, and started rocking the boat until at last he fell into the water, dragging the chain and anchor behind him. He'd only been able to teke in a limited amount of air in his lungs, breathing only through his nose, but he put it to the best use, and wriggled in the direction of the pier as much as he could before the anchor hit bottom. Then he felt the world going black and knew the first round was over. The air left his lungs and he died.

Then he came to, deep in the lake and unable to see which direction led to the pier. He knew he'd have to give himself guidance because with each rebirth he'd have lost his senses again, so he shoved some rocks into a line pointing in the direction he'd chosen, hopped a few hops, dragged the anchor to him with his last ounce of strength.

And died again.

And again. He didn't count how many times before he felt something slipping under his arms in a loop and pulling him out of the water. He was dragged through the water towards the pier - having wandered far away from it - and then up onto it. Three muscular men were needed for this task, and one brandished a knife, but Jack didn't flinch. He was ready to suffer anything to get his hands on that white-robed demon. But they just cut the duct tape from his still-bleeding wrists and ripped it from his mouth (he wished he could have kept from screaming but it's a law of duct tape that you have to yell when it's ripped from your face, with or without wounds). He lay on the dock panting and waiting. At last White Robes appeared, and resisting the weakness of multiple deaths and pain, he leapt to he feet, stumbling towards it. It didn't take much effort for the 'handlers' to stop him, and they held him as the mysterious person stood in front of him.

She removed a white hood from her head and Jack gasped in disbelief. It was – at least it was the face of – his card-telling girl he'd known for hundreds of years!

And then he saw on the shore behind her dozens more who looked and dressed just like her. So he, Jack the Immortal Harkness, found it a good time to faint. And he did.

_**This is just the beginnings of an idea and I need to know if I should go on. And please, do review and give me some tips on what would make it a better beginning if needed. I wouldn't mind suggestions on where to go next, either….and, well, thanks in advance!**_


	2. Come Away O Child

**/A/N 8/19/10: Thank you so much reviewers, and everyone who put this story on alert or fav lists - it really, REALLY helps. But my muse said to take a break today, and like the faeries, it isn't wise to argue with the muse. I hope to dig in again tomorrow. For now, woah, there is a wealth of great stuff on the fan fic net right now, isn't there? I'm reading and loving it all. Peace. Out./**

_**Come away, O human child**_

_**To the waters and the wild.**_

_**With the faerie hand in hand.**_

_**For the world's more full of weeping**_

_**Than you can understand.**_

Jack lay in a stunned heap, but eventually got to a sitting position on the pier and stared blankly as the girls stared blankly back at him, just as the card-reader always had. He tried to sort out some reason why they would be here, where here was, and why there were so many of them, and his head began to hurt again. He was unaccustomed to fainting – not a hero-ish thing to do – so he gave up and just waited.

"Jack Harkness, Face of Boe, you go by many names." Dozens of voices all the same voice spoke as one, but the resonance went through him like a full orchestra.

He rubbed his face and tried to stand up, but a burly hand pushed him back down – one of the 'handlers'. Jack took note of some rather fine musculature before looking back at the women. Waiting for them to speak.

"You have committed the greatest crime a human can to my kind."

"WHAT?" Jack almost tried to stand again, but waved away the handler. "What crime have I committed?"

"Pardon me, you will do it, and I am here to stop you!" The voice/voices finally rose to an angry pitch, causing a knot of fear to form in Jack's stomach – again, not typical of this immortal. One thing he truly feared is that somehow, sometime, he might hurt someone – he was truly human and had a truly human soul, though it took hundreds of years for him to discover that. And now he knew it.

He almost didn't notice the girls' use of the first person. "W-What do you mean - 'I' – there are dozens of you." He felt like an idiot asking, but it was a valid question, after all.

Instead of an answer he heard something he'd hoped never to hear again – soft, mocking laughter in the trees, the fluttering of wings, and sinister growls of warning, just about as loud as the breeze.

"Sometime very near future, you will take a Chosen One, and keep her from coming to take her true place with the others." The voices chanted in monotone. "We are that Chosen One, gathered from many different times and places, to meet here and decide your fate."

Jack kept his next question to himself, wondering what made them his judge, because he was now actually trembling in fear. Faerie were the only beings he had never found a way to fight. Give them what they want, and hope they will leave you alone.

But he had learned that lesson just recently, when he'd lost his beloved Estelle, drowned in her own personal downpour by the faeries. He'd broken a mother's heart by taking on the burden of decision and letting little Jasmine join them, as she clearly wanted to do. He could only hope they'd keep their promise and make her happy, and let her live forever. But forever went both forward and back. So now he began to understand what had happened here...except...

"How can you all be here at once? This is a multiple paradox and you've all crossed your own timelines! That's either impossible or would destroy all of reality!" Jack was breathing heavily, still recovering from so many drownings, and also because this was the first rule of time travel, something he'd learned in another life back on Boeshane. It wasn't the kind of thing you could just magically change.

"I am all one person. And I am here." The voices never altered their tone. The water in the lake rippled when they spoke.

"All but one. The girl you know as the card-reader. She is me also, but she would not come. I don't know why." They all bowed their heads in unison as they said this, and the creatures in the trees growled softly, fluttering their wings.

"Now you know and have been warned. You may return to your world, but beware. I, and my kind, are everywhere. You must find a way of stopping your future self from keeping me from taking my place as a Chosen One."

Suddenly the sunny mist was replaced by strong winds, and blowing among the winds were red rose petals. Try as he might, Jack couldn't keep from breathing them in and choked on them, dying once again.

_**This all seems quite dark, but don't worry, it's just the set-up. I think I know where it's going now. But I sure would love some reviews to help keep me going. I am in 3 days of quarantine because I had to take a radioactive iodine pill – sounds like something Torchwood One would do. I can't touch my little neice, best friend, or go to work. But I can write...with a little encouragement...hint, hint?**_


	3. Roses Don't Suit You

_**This is short, but after a little muse attitude problem, I finally got past a little blank spot and I think it will start to flow more smoothly. Still very open to reviewss, suggestions, questions, news reports (did you know the synopsis for Torchwood - The New World is available on the web?), etc. Love you all.**_

Ianto strode into the hub at 5:30 in the morning, actually whistling a little, feeling like it might just be a good day. He'd felt so much warmth from Jack recently, and their time together was becoming clearly passionate. And that kiss – even with Lisa standing over them waiting to kill him again – it was more than resuscitation, Ianto, was sure.

And then he screamed. A bona-fide, high-pitched, girlie scream. There in the middle of the common area floor was Jack, curled up in a fetal position, dead still, surrounded by red rose petals. Ianto felt a dark lump in his chest as a panic attack threatened, but his strength for those he loved won out and he went to Jack, trying to uncurl him, and trying his best to remove as many rose petals from his mouth as he could. It wasn't enough. He ran to the med bay and grabbed some small tongs, and returned.

He pulled a large cluster of petals from deep in Jack's throat, and it was all he could do not to gag thinking about how it would feel – if he weren't dead, as Jack clearly was. But only until the next petals were removed, then he gasped in wracking breaths, drawing the remaining petals back into his lungs, causing him to choke and gag violently until they, and whatever had been in his stomach, finally came out in a disgusting pile on the floor.

He knelt and wrapped his arms around his legs, and saw Ianto appear out of the corner of his eye with a mop and bucket. How does he do that so quickly, Jack wondered, finally beginning to gain control of his breathing, still spitting out the odd rose petal now and then.

"All right, Jack. I can imagine what happened. You made the faeries very very angry. So, what exactly did you do?" Ianto stood with his hands resting lightly on his hips, a sure sign his emotions were in a turmoil of anger, fear, compassion, and a touch of awe.

"Who says I did anything?" Jack's rasped, barely able to speak. "I don't understand why they are after me." He lied, a little, wanting to do some research on his own before revealing that he himself might be the one who kept a future chosen one from her true calling. And that chosen one might be someone who had been friend and comfort to him on more than one occasion in the past and present, the card-reading girl (he wished he knew her name…maybe).

"God, Jack, you scared the shit out of me. I might just need to check my underwear..." Ianto tried to lighten up the mood, but that wasn't his specialty.

"TMI, Ianto, but thanks anyway. I'm fine now," his still-ragged voice revealed that lie, "and we have work to do.

So they set to it, checking the rift monitors. Jack sat at his desk and stared into space instead of signing the reports and requisitions piled there. He had to come up with a way of finding out when and how his actions caused this disaster, for his own sake, for the girl's sake, and if the faeries started to get impatient, which they were well known for doing, for his team's sake. But the Doctor had disabled his Vortex manipulator, so he couldn't go jumping around through time, which would be a random search anyway. He looked at Tosh, who had arrived shortly after his revival, and watched her working intently on her rift predictions. He thought back on attempts that had been made in the past to use the rift manipulator to make specific jumps in time. The results were all beyond disastrous and he shook them away and picked up his pen. But the idea still nagged at the back of his mind.

Meanwhile, later in the day, he would have to go out and do some hunting for the card girl. And find out her bloody name, for the love of God!


	4. Fire and Brimstone

_**A/N One minor change in plot – earlier the girl/girls on the shore told Jack he would do something heinous far in the future, but that just doesn't fit the way I want this to go, so if you look again at Ch 2, "Come Away O Child", you'll see he does this terrible thing in the near future.**_

_**One episode reference to "Dead Man Walking", so that places this a little later in the episode chronology, no spoilers in particular****.**_

Jack hunched his wool coat around him and pulled the collar up against the driving rain. He'd been from bar to pub to tavern for hours looking for the mysterious girl, even the tavern he'd met her in just recently when he'd needed help finding out what was possessing Owen after his death and revival. He'd come up empty, and felt a growing knot in his gut, wondering if he'd be able to find her before something worse happened to himself, or worse yet, to his team. He knew the faeries were viciously vengeful, and don't have a lick of patience.

Sure enough his Bluetooth came to life and there was an urgent voice – so urgent he hardly recognized it as Ianto's.

"Jack, JACK! WE NEED YOU." Sound of crackling and crashing in the background, "HUB'S ON FIRE – EMERGENCY SYSTEMS NOT WORKNG!"

Jack spun on his heel and began to run at breakneck speed across the dock area of Cardiff, leaping over low walls, stretching his long legs to the limit. Once he neared the Plass and the Millenium center he could smell smoke that was definitely not kebabs, and he could see some rising from the entry tunnel to the garage where they kept the SUV.

"Ianto – IANTO – can you hear me? DON'T open the lift entrance – I'll come in through the tunnels. You don't want to create an updraft. Got that?" He got no answer and the knot in his stomach grew to near panic in his chest. Not his people. Not his Hub. This can't be happening!

By the time he got to the SUV Owen had Ianto over his shoulder and the others were in various states of distress sitting near the entrance to the garage trying to get air.

"I got the sprinklers working and the Hub is in complete lockdown so the oxygen should begin to run out soon. I don't know where Myfanwy is – she may have been out cruising when it happened, and…"

"Shh, shh, slow down. Everyone is safe, right?" Jack put his hand on Owen's shoulder and helped him lay Ianto on the ground.

"Well, Ianto – not so much. He insisted on trying to load some of Tosh's recent Rift calculations onto portable media, and by the time I got to him he'd collapsed and wasn't breathing. Jack, can you PLEASE administer mouth to mouth to him – I can't give him any breath!" Owen looked like tears would have been streaming down his cheeks if he had the ability to cry. Jack's eyebrow twitched in fear and stress as he looked at Ianto's blue lips, and he immediately breathed into him, then let Owen do the chest compressions. Then breathing, then compressions…

"God, Ianto, don't die – I'm so sorry I couldn't help you. Oh God." Owen was falling apart. "Owen, focus, we have to keep trying, I know you can do it." Jack's heart wasn't convinced, but he'd learned how to be a great liar a long long time ago.

At last Ianto gasped desperately, drawing enough air into his lungs to breathe on his own. Jack cradled him in his lap, rocking a little out of instinct. "Ianto, my love," he breathed into his ear, too soft for anyone else to hear. "They can't have you. Please fight." Ianto wasn't conscious, however, and Jack leant down and gave him a long, gentle kiss. That brought some movement, and his beloved's eyes fluttered open, pale blue but rimmed with red and strained with the effort of getting oxygen into his lungs.

"The Hub will have to burn out on it's own. We have to get further away and try to avoid questions, and get some cleaner air. Where are the keys?"

"In the Hub," Owen said in despair. "Ianto had gone up to the tourist office to get his set when the fire started, but they must have dropped in the struggle." And Jack's set were oddly missing. He heard rustling in the trees and evil laughter. The others could only hear sirens, and got a glimpse of confused rescue units wandering around trying to figure out where the smoke was coming from. The air was full of it now, and the Roald Dahl Plass was blanketed with it, making it hard for Search and Rescue to find people who may have collapsed for lack of good air. But all the Torchwood team could do was run, or stumble away, unable to stay and help as they needed to care for their own first.

Tosh and Gwen finally couldn't go any further and they all sat on childrens' playthings at a park a good distance away from the Hub. Tosh tried to talk but coughing racked her lungs. "I got what I could," Owen answered the question he knew she was asking. Gwen just sat in a miserable heap on a merry-go-round, and Jack was pacing. Ianto leaned against an elephant that had a heavy spring for legs, meant to have children rocking back and forth on it, not to support a man gasping for his life. He didn't seem to be coherent and Jack stopped and looked at him now and then, then continued pacing. Then he stopped short.

"Tosh, can I have a minute?" She coughed and nodded her head, then joined him over on the swings, some distance away from the others. Owen and Gwen exchanged glances, but both shrugged, no idea what they could be talking about. Tosh had grabbed her ever-present laptop and plugged in the portable drive Owen had saved, and was talking animatedly with Jack about something she'd been working on in her own time. Unexpectedly, Jack's face lit up and he hugged her, nearly sending the laptop to the ground. Then the two rejoined the group, both with expressions of deep concentration on their faces.

"And?" Owen inquired?

Jack looked over to Tosh and shook his head almost imperceptibly, and the two kept their conversation to themselves.

"All right, then, what now?"

"We need to get some oxygen for Ianto – a tall order I know, but do you have any connections that you can use Owen?"

"Consider it done. Shall we all meet at my place – it's not far – I can be there in about 20 minutes with everything we'll need to rest and recuperate. And perhaps you could then give us just a clue about what's going on?"

"I will, I promise. I – I just – I don't know how much you need to know right now – for your own protection." Jack added, knowing that Owen just didn't need to know about just how far Tosh had gotten with her rift calculations, and the fact that they had nothing to do with prediction, but rather to do with manipulation. Which meant Jack now needed to do some predicting of his own, or somehow find out where that card girl was and what – no, _when _he needed to make contact with her future self and stop this disaster before his friends got hurt even worse.

Owen gave him his house keys, and Jack picked up Ianto like he was a sleeping – albeit coughing – child, and they made their way off to Owen's place as Owen himself went off on his own mission to get medical supplies. 'How' didn't matter to Jack right now, they'd have to make good later. He hardly dared look into Ianto's soot-covered face, and Gwen and Tosh as they supported each other, hardly able to walk.

And this is ALL my fault, Jack repeated over and over again. His own tears covered his cheeks but he continued on into the night.


End file.
